Meeting At Siva-Llebpmac
by Manuuk7
Summary: T'Pol and Archer are shuttling over to the Siva-Llebpmac spaceport where they will meet with Enterprise. There's plenty of time, T'Pol's pon farr is a couple of months away. If only it were that simple.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

_Notes from the author: I, of course, do not own any Star Trek characters other than the ones I create. _

* * *

_**Enterprise**_

Hoshi bent her head to the right to better hear the chimes that had just crossed trillions of mile of space. "Incoming communication from Starfleet, Captain," she announced. Her back was turned to the Captain, she didn't have to check if he was paying attention.

"In my ready room, Ensign," came the expected answer.

She pushed the message through the internal communication platform and relaxed back in her seat. The doors to the ready room were already swooshing shut. Hoshi allowed herself a smile. Everything was working smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. She was glad for the change of pace, allowed everyone to get their sea legs, respond to a different command style.

Acting Captain Trip locked the ready room doors and opened the communication from Starfleet. He wasn't expecting any message, correction, Enterprise wasn't expecting any message. They were on their way to the Siva-Llebpmac Spaceport, where things would go back to normal once they picked up Archer and T'Pol, and that was it. He clicked the folder open, letting the computer crypto-match his eyeball and verify that he had been designated acting captain in Captain Archer's absence.

He swore as he read the message on the screen. Then he swore again. He slapped the desk. But the message didn't change. He should have known. He should have been listening to that little voice inside him whispering that a communication from Starfleet was never good. Not when he, Charles Tucker the Third, was in charge. Never. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyebrows knotted.

This was not good news. He reread the message, trying to keep an open mind about it. It looked like an easy detour, three days out and three days back, a couple more to get everyone back to playing nicely in the sandbox. A week. Ten days tops.

It would work. Right? It had to.

Phlox would know. He leaned over the intercom to call him.

xxx

_**Third Planet from Siva-Llebpmac**_

"Psst, are you awake?" Archer strained against the chains holding him up to the ceiling beam. "Psst, T'Pol, are you awake?"

There was an answering rustle. He listened intently, trying to see in the near darkness. He'd just awaken a few minutes before.

"I am awake."

Her voice was hardly above a whisper. He heard the metallic clanging of her chains, indicating she was changing position, then the lighter glow of her skin as she turned her head towards him.

"They worked me over good but they're not familiar with Human physiology. Just bumps and bruises," he informed her.

"They have slightly more familiarity with Vulcan physiology," came the curt answer.

Archer winced. He was definitely going to be in the dog house. It was his fault they were here in this interrogation room, without anyone on Enterprise having any clue where they were. He could only hope the regular position transmissions from the shuttle had gone through seamlessly. Then Trip and Reed would figure out that they were in site of the planet when the communications from the shuttle had stopped. There was only one Minshara-class planet before Siva-Llebpmac, they couldn't miss it. They'd certainly go there once they realized their biosigns were not on the planet.

And then they'd find out about the rebel groups, or find the burned out shell of the shuttle and hopefully they would also find their biosigns. Hopefully.

Not that he'd planned it that way, definitely not. But he was the one who suggested, then insisted on going to see the Minshara class planet. Not on Vulcan space charts. Much too small to hold any interest for the Vulcans. Or they'd never come quite the same way as the shuttle. So he'd named it himself. T'Pol's eyebrows had eloquently climbed into her hairline when he told her. The equivalent of a Vulcan eyeroll.

She'd asked him why it was necessary to deviate from their programmed route. But he pointed out they'd arrive at Siva three days ahead of time as it were, but if they made the detour they'd get there the day before Enterprise showed up. The choice being three days stuck on a busy spaceport or checking new cultures, possibly new artifacts, the kind of stuff that made Enterprise scientists drool.

As it turned out, the 'Archimedes' planet looked great on the star charts only because nobody had come close enough to find out about the constant strife between enemy groups. But they had, and next thing the shuttle was shot out of the sky, forced to land, and they'd been ungently grabbed by the resident humanoids and brought to this dank room worthy of the middle ages for a thorough interrogation. Except they hadn't been able to tell their captors much of value. Even after being beaten senseless. Especially after that.

It would make him feel better to talk to someone, help while away the time. They had been in the dark for hours now and he had no idea what to expect next. Hopefully not more of the same.

"How's your eye?" he asked T'Pol.

"Swollen."

Archer winced again. One-word answers. He was in the dog house. He'd be there for a long time. Hopefully that's what they had ahead of them. A long time

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

Trip's eyes popped open. He sat up in the dark cabin, wondering why he should abruptly wake up in the middle of the night. What was it that woke him up. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't remember his last dream but he remembered it had been vaguely nightmarish, in an indistinct kind of way.

He checked the chrono, middle of the delta shift. It must be the stress of captaincy waking him up. Though he'd been sleeping like a log until now. And it couldn't be the stress of going off to scare pirates on the Hydra-Zepahlis route. He'd run missions like that dozens of time. There was nothing to be worried about.

Suddenly it came to him. Of course. The answer was obvious. Because of the detour, they wouldn't be on time to pick up T'Pol and the Captain. They'd have to cool their heels on Siva for a few days, no more than a week. And he couldn't even warn them. The communication packets were one-way only, from the shuttle to Enterprise, most of them to be picked up on arrival at Siva because of the transmission lag.

Archer would be irritated that someone took his ship without his knowledge. And that was only half of his problem. He imagined T'Pol's cool reception when Enterprise came back, she wouldn't be too happy about being stuck on a crowded spaceport. Though he was sure Siva had some scientific sites worth visiting. He hoped.

He turned towards the wall, he missed her less in that position. He could even close his eyes and imagine she was right behind him, sleeping in that relaxed cat way of hers. All he had to do was forget that if she was there the heat of her body would be warming his back throughout the night, even if she didn't touch him.

In any case, Phlox said they still had a couple of months ahead of them, a one-week delay would have no consequences. He could even be late another couple of weeks and there would be nothing to worry about, other than a seriously peeved Vulcan.

And that he could deal with. What really could she do to him after all? She'd been peeved by him in one way or another pretty much from the first day she stepped on Enterprise and she'd always kept her cool about it. Vulcans were pacifists. He was glad about that because truth be told he was a little bit worried about what a seriously miffed Vulcan with an uncertain grasp on her control could actually do to him.

His eyes popped open in the dark. Yes, that must be the reason he was feeling uneasy. He needed to quiet his mind. He started one of the meditative techniques T'Pol had taught him. His last thought as he sunk into cottony slumber was that everything would be fine, there was nothing to worry about.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2 A Planet By Any Other Name

xxx

_**Third Planet from Siva, aka 'Archimedes'**_

Archer couldn't tell whether it was night or day, or how long they'd been hanging there, waiting for their captors to come back. It seemed like forever and he knew if he asked T'Pol she'd come back with something like fifty-seven minutes and thirty-six seconds, so all in all he preferred not to know.

"Someone is coming," she suddenly announced. The sound of her chains told him she was moving. The next second there was a creak and the door opened, throwing a rectangle of white light on the earth floor. Archer squinted against the glare of the door. He couldn't tell who it was but there were a few of them. One of the dark shapes came closer. Archer couldn't see the man's face but he recognized the heavy brown leather boots. There must be the imprint of their eyelets somewhere on his body. He'd nicknamed the man 'Big Boots'. Not the most imaginative moniker but descriptive enough.

Archer eyed the ridged crests along the man's arms, all the way to his shoulders. Some kind of exoskeleton. That would explain the sleeveless vests. It also made their punches a lot harder. Big Boots planted himself in front of Archer. "So, are we feeling more like talking this morning?"

"I'm always happy to talk," replied Archer. Through his swollen lips that sounded like "I'm alwaysh shappy to talk." The combination of sounds was funny to his ear but he made an effort not to look amused. From experience these aliens had no sense of humor whatsoever.

"Who sent you?!" Big Boots was getting angry.

There, no sense of humor. "We came in peace," Archer replied, "we just wanted to explore the planet, nothing else."

"All right, if you won't talk, we'll start again." Big Boots flipped his chin and one of the other men drew closer. Archer squinted against the light until he recognized the man he called "Snagtooth". Again, not terribly imaginative, but descriptive.

Snagtooth veered towards T'Pol. Now that Archer's eyes had adjusted to the light streaming in the cell he was able to see the Commander. His breath caught in his throat. Suddenly what she said came back to him, 'they are familiar with Vulcan physiology'. One of her eyes was swollen shut, dried blood from her ears down her collar and along her jaw. Compared to her, his interrogation looked like a walk in the park.

"Leave her alone!" he yelled at Snagtooth.

Big Boots turned to him, "Tell us who sent you."

"I told you, nobody!"

Big Boots motioned Snagtooth to keep going. Snagtooth grabbed T'Pol by the chin, turning her head for a better aim, and drew his arm back and high for a punch.

"STOP!" Archer yelled so loud that all froze. "Stop!" he said again. "Ok, I'll tell you the truth."

Big Boots took a step closer, half-threateningly, "You tell us! Now!"

"Yes, yes... we came... on a mission." Archer hesitated as he saw the upward curve of T'Pol's eyebrow. That was news to her, too. He really had no choice, he hoped she'd trust him and follow his lead. He looked up at the chains holding him then at Big Boots, ""I will tell you all about it, but first you untie her. And me."

A few seconds went by with nobody moving. Archer thought perhaps he'd overreached. Just then Big Boots said, "All right. But you talk or we start again!" He turned to the others, "Take her down!"

T'Pol fell to the ground in a heap and stayed there. Archer was glad she'd remembered lessons from basic training, always make the enemy feel you are more injured or weaker than you are. To make it even more convincing, she pulled into a fetal curl. That wasn't part of basic training, though. The thought made him swallow. He didn't have time to think about it. He was released next and went to the ground like a limp mass. He waited a few seconds before pulling himself to a seating position, exaggerating the slowness and pain of his movements. He saw that T'Pol hadn't moved and swallowed again.

"So?" Big Boots asked. The other men crowded around him in a half-circle, listening intently.

Archer looked up at Big Boots. "You're right, we were sent here," he started, carefully looking at the man's expression. He saw T'Pol's head move slightly. Good. At least she wasn't unconscious.

"By whom?!" Big Boots barked.

"Who do you think?!" Archer asked, and waited. If he played it right, he would get the answer.

"The Erial Clan! I knew it! I told you it was the Erials!" Snagtooth shouted. Archer nodded. That told him two things, that Snagtooth was impulsive and could be a source of information.

"Quiet!" Big Boots bellowed, then he looked at Archer, "Was it the Erials?"

"They used code names but they knew a lot about you," Archer helped along.

"It had to be the Erials," Big Boots agreed. "What did they ask you to do?!" he added.

Archer was thinking fast. Since they were captured, they'd learned their captors were rebels, one of several competing factions on the planet. It was a little like the time on Coridan. He had to proceed carefully. It was fifty-fifty but from experience rebel groups rarely stayed put. "You're going to be on the move soon?" he asked.

Big Boots inhaled through his teeth, straightening from where he was bending over Archer. "They know we're going North..." another rebel said, his voice trailing. "Shhh.." Big Boots quickly silenced the man.

That wasn't lost on Archer. "They know you're on the move soon," he doubled-down, "they're not interested in where you're going, just what happens when you get there." He waited, fairly certain now Big Boots was going to fill in the blanks for him.

Except he didn't.

"What are you talking about?" Big Boots was nonplussed. "Nothing's planned."

Archer was thinking furiously. He might have miscalculated. He had a sudden inspiration, "Everyone will be there, right?" he made it sound cryptic, as if conveying a hidden truth. He couldn't see T'Pol's face from where he was but he could well imagine the eyebrows.

The insinuation succeeded. A light shone in the rebel's eyes. "The Overseer!" He exclaimed in a whisper. Then louder, "They want you to get close to the Overseer!" The other rebels nodded as if the story matched some feared scenario.

Archer nodded, "You must be right," then realizing he was the one supposed to know, "Yes, that's it."

Big Boots looked at the circle of rebels. Snagfoot took the opportunity for a question of his own, "Get close for what? To kill him?"

Archer shook his head. "No, we're offworlders, nobody would know who did it." He had a sudden stroke of genius, "We're supposed to get in touch with our handlers once we're there, wait for additional orders."

The men started talking among themselves animatedly, ignoring the Starfleet officers. Archer couldn't follow what they were talking about. An undersized rebel in the back suddenly piped up, "We must kill them."

Archer eyed the man narrowly, making sure he'd remember him. That was made easy by the man's bushy eyebrows, like downward mustaches around his eyes. He would keep an eye on Eyebrows. Not that the man had the power to decide their fate. Or did he?

Fortunately he didn't. "Nobody's doing anything until Ayt Olbiad arrives!" Big Boots shouted over the din, "He'll decide what we do."

"Eight Olbat?" Archer kept his expression neutral. He'd thought Big Boots was the leader, that wasn't the case?

"Ayt Olbiad," Big Boots corrected. "He's the regional leader," he added by way of an explanation.

Archer looked at his chained feet, at T'Pol prone a few feet away. He had an inkling their troubles were just starting.


	3. Chapter 3 Pack Mules

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

Trip was already in the elevator when Amanda Cole walked in. She squared her shoulders, ready to salute, but he stopped her with a raised hand and a smile. She smiled in return. Old MACO habits did die hard.

They waited for the ride to end in companionable silence. Gone was the awkwardness of the early days, once she'd learned she'd made the moves on T'Pol's partner. Truth be told, she'd noticed something may be going on there, had been trying her luck, see what happened. No harm, no foul, right? Even when T'Pol had 'unwittingly' hurt her during that neuropressure session - you bet it was unwitting, she was sure the Vulcan had done it exactly on purpose, showed her what she could do to her if she wanted to -, even then she'd held the hope that somehow she'd eventually win Trip over. It was finally Hoshi who'd confronted her one day in the gym showers, let her know that she was a tad too obvious and that in any case she was barking up the wrong tree.

It'd been tough at first but she'd put her ear to the ground and checked that Hoshi was right. After the first wave of anger she'd ended up being extremely grateful to her for not letting her make a fool of herself. And she'd given T'Pol a wide berth ever since. They said Vulcans never forgot. She wasn't taking any chances. No siree, Bob.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the turbolift smoothly gliding to its destination. She watched as Trip exited, saw him turn left towards the command center. Ah, so something was going on indeed. Evans had told her that the ship was going in a different direction, nobody'd been told why yet. This was one more piece of the puzzle. Tonight, it'd be her turn to bring something new to the rumor mill. So that when the brass finally shared what was going on, they could all look at each other smugly, because they'd already figured it out.

xxx

"You got it Travis?" Inside the command room, Trip had finished catching his team up on what Starfleet wanted from them.

"No problem, Captain!" The junior refrained from pointing out it was no tougher than threading a needle.

Trip turned to Reed, pointing to a point on the 3D projection of the stellar chart. "This is where most of the attacks have taken place. They don't do it during transfer, too dangerous, but once the ships clear the final black hole pull, they find they have too much speed and have to slow down. That's when the pirates strike. Like shooting fish in a barrel."

Reed was looking at the chart, chin in one hand, his elbow resting on the other. "And that won't happen to Enterprise?" he asked.

"Of course it will," Trip shot back. "We expect the pirates will attack the convoy. Except we'll be waiting for them. Make them wish they hadn't."

"Because their ships are smaller than ours?" Reed saw it as his duty to try and poke holes in Trip's plan. Even if this was a fairly nonsensical question. Of course Enterprise would be bigger than a pirates' ship. Trip just stared silently back until Reed broke eye contact, grumbling, "We need to be ready for all eventualities." Hoshi'd understand, her.

She was standing at Trip's right, looking down at the table screen, the names of the ships attacked, of the dead. So many transports, so many dead. She thought about them, how they were just minding their business, doing their job, and now they would never go home, the unfairness of it all. She suddenly realized that Trip was talking to her, "Captain?" She asked, aware she'd missed what he said.

But he wasn't impatient, unlike Archer. "What I was asking, Ensign," Trip answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world, "is that we won't know which pirate groups we're facing. Do you have a database of the most common pirate languages?"

"The UT can handle all the most common languages among pirates, and also the least common and 78 ship-specific dialects," Hoshi proudly answered. "I think we'll be able to know what they're saying," she added.

"Good," Trip looked around at the handful of people on the room. He'd also summoned the acting science officer, Specialist Jean Lessett, and one of the rising juniors, Ensign Howard Riekke."So we rendez-vous with the transport in another couple of days, escort them down the Hydra-Zepahlis runs, handle any piracy attempt. We'll be back to pick up Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol in less than a week."

Malcolm eyed Trip narrowly, wondering why he'd even mentioned that. Picking up their missing crew members didn't compare with ensuring the safety of a very sensitive transport. Granted Trip hadn't seen T'Pol in a while but that wasn't the end of the world. The Commanders were not some rutting animals in heat. There were plenty of crew members who hadn't seen their loved ones in even longer.

Trip had dismissed the meeting. Malcolm waited until everyone was out, "What's the big deal with picking the Captain and T'Pol up promptly? It's not like they'll break if we're a little late." If he hadn't known Trip better, he'd have sworn the man was embarrassed. Trip looked at the table, then at his feet, anywhere but at Reed. "No, of course not," he finally said. He looked straight at Malcolm, "Just trying to make it easy on them."

Somehow, Malcolm wasn't too convinced.

Xxx

_**Archimedes**_

Archer wiggled on the ground, trying to relieve the pressure from being tied in one position for too long. The cell was still dark, but the rebels had left the door ajar and enough light was streaming through to allow him to see. T'Pol was in a light healing trance, the tips of her fingers twitching from time to time.

Once the rebels had left them trussed up like sausages to wait for Ayt Olbiad, she'd told Archer she was going into a light healing trance. And went to sleep just like that. No comments on what happened, no talking about what might happen. Simply a 'I am entering a light healing trance' and poof, she was gone. Archer hoped the silent treatment would end soon. He checked that she seemed all right, he still felt guilty about things. She seemed to be breathing normally, if a little bit rapidly, and she looked darker, more green. He had no knowledge of healing trances so what did he know...

A growing noise outside let him know something was happening. Perhaps in reaction to the noise, or because she had reached the end of the trance, T'Pol opened her eyes. Archer felt a rush of relief. At least he was no longer alone in this mess.

They heard voices outside, there seemed to be an argument. Several people were talking at the same time. Archer tried to recognize the voices of Big Boots or Eyebrows, or Snagtooth even, but came up blank. He shot an interrogating look at T'Pol. She was listening, head coked to the side. She looked up at him, shaking her head, "None of the ones we know."

Archer was wondering who else may be involved in the conversation when the door pushed open and a group of men stepped in, walking more slowly than he'd have expected. He soon saw they were surrounding a stout and burly alien in the middle, barrel-chested, black of hair and eye. The rebels fanned out around Archer and T'Pol, as if to block any idea of retreat, and the man stepped closer until he was a couple of feet away. Archer tried to sit on the ground with a semblance of dignity while looking up at the man, no mean feat. "Ayt Olbiad, I presume?" he asked. He saw T'Pol's raised eyebrow from the corner of his eye. Good, she got the joke.

The sturdy man stayed silend, hands on his hips, mean ridge bones projecting from his elbows. "Who are you?" he finally said.

"I am Jonathan Archer and this is T'Pol." Archer omitted the titles, they'd had no effect on the aliens anyway.

The man looked over at T'Pol, "Vulcans we're familiar with. And you are?"

"I am a Human," Archer replied, "from the planet Earth."

Ayt Olbiad turned to Big Boots, "They don't seem so scary." His voice dripped contempt.

Big Boots spluttered as he replied, "Yes, Olbiad, they seem to be a poor excuse for spies, but is there a better ruse then two hapless aliens?" Archer saw T'Pol's shoot Big Boots a dark look. Obviously she was not amused.

"What were you sent to do?" Olbiad asked Archer.

Archer tried to look like a spy who'd trick others into believing he was a bumbling fool. "Our handlers," Archer couldn't place the clan's name, "told us you were moving North soon. They wanted us to follow you, see who you were meeting. Once we get there, they'll send us the rest of our orders." That was about what Big Boots had said, more or less.

"And the Erials thought you could track the Eniledas without being found?!" the man seemed amused by the sheer nerve of it. He turned to Big Boots, "You have to take them along, see what the Erials are up to. Once these two get the rest of their orders, kill them." He turned and started for the door.

"Ayt Olbiad!" a voice rang. A hush fell. The rebels all froze. Big Boots looked at the speaker, on the verge of an apoplexy. But Olbiad simply turned around, looked at the man, "What do you ask?" His tone was not hostile.

"If we're going to take them along, they might as well help us," the man replied.

Ayt Olbiad nodded, "Of course, it shouldn't cause more work for you guys." He looked Archer and T'Pol over, "They'll make fine pack mules," he said. "Make sure to keep the Vulcan's hands tied at all times," he added, and then he was gone.

xxx


	4. Chapter 4 On The Way

_**Archimedes**_

Archer eyed the enormous packs on the ground. He hoped this was not what they were supposed to carry, there was no way anyone could lift those things. He looked around, it was early morning and the camp was already a hotbed of activity. He saw several women, looking the same as men except for the fact they hadn't participated in their interrogatory. He hoped there was a gentler sex on this planet. Talking about planet, after several days in the dark cell it felt good to be outside under the yellow sky. Even if this didn't look like anyplace he'd seen before, there was vegetation, there were trees, there was a sky, there were suns... close enough for comfort if you asked him.

He turned to look at T'Pol next to him. The swelling in her face was going down, though her eye sported enough colors for a rainbow. Her hands were tied to short tethers attached to a loop of chain around her waist. She still hadn't said more than a couple of words to him, always in response to his questions. He was still in the doghouse... But Archer was determined, if nothing else. "How do you feel?" he asked.

The look he received in return would have skewered a less daring soul. "How many possible answers are there when one is prisoner on an unknown planet that was not on the travel manifest and that one was not supposed to be on?" she pretty much snarled. She looked away and to the ground, "I apologize."

'Yeah, right,' thought Archer. If he hadn't guessed she was peeved before, now he knew.

He felt it safer to go back to considering the packs. One looked to be about fifty pounds but the other had to easily be over a hundred. Certainly more than half his body weight. Plus with his hands tied like they were, there was no way he could lift it. He looked around, wondering where Big Boots was, hoping someone would tell them they had animals for the bigger pack.

Big Boots was already striding towards them from the other end of the camp, Snagtooth at his side. From the look of things, everyone was pretty much packed up. It looked like he and T'Pol were the last thing left. The rebels formed a loose line stretching from one end of the camp to another. Several of them looked at Big Boots as he went by, then realizing where he was headed, fell into step behind him. Some were women.

Great! Archer thought to himself. Bad enough that they were supposed to serve as pack mules, now they'd have an audience too. Big Boots was already at their side. He pointed at the packs, talking to someone at his side, "The Human gets the smaller pack. You can untie his hands. The Vulcan gets the other one."  
"Wait!" Archer called. Big Boots turned around. Archer motioned at the packs with his bound hands, "They're too big!" That elicited general merriment from the men and women trouped around them. Archer couldn't have cared less. What he cared about was that T'Pol didn't have to carry that thing.  
Big Boots gave a short laugh. "They're small enough. You'll adjust."  
"But-" couldn't he see the pack was almost heavier than T'Pol?  
Big Boots cut him off. "Vulcans can easily carry their own weight and a half," he said matter-of-factly. He turned to the small crowd that had assembled around them, "Get those bags up on them and let's go."

Archer's hands were untied. There was no opportunity for escape, with a crowd around and T'Pol unable to use her hands. All he could do was stand there as the rebels lifted the backpack and adjusted it on his back. He almost fell and stumbled, catching his balance in the nick of time. That made the onlookers laugh. Archer gritted his teeth, careful not to let the strain show. That thing must weigh a ton. The sheer weight was making him sweat profusely. Thank his lucky stars he was in decent shape, but he couldn't imagine walking for miles with that thing on his back.

Her heard exclamations behind him and turned slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Another group had hoisted the heavier pack over T'Pol's head and was latching it to her frame. She too seemed to fold under the weight until she found her center of gravity, grunting from the exertion. She vacillated on her feet but somehow managed to keep upright, even if bent under the weight on her back. It was the first time he'd seen her give any sign of physical pressure. He could tell the strain was enormous. And she couldn't even use her hands to adjust the pack. Not that there was any way to adjust that kind of weight anyway.

Now that the entertainment was over the crowd dispersed, everyone finding their place along the line that snaked all the way to the entrance to the camp. Archer kept his gaze on the light-colored sand by his feet, his jaw jutting. The column started shuffling forward, the rebels were moving North. The men in line just ahead of him started walking and he fell in step, then T'Pol, Snagtooth hurrying them along. Archer could have done without the gadfly. Based on the noises, there were still quite a few people behind him. The rebels weren't taking any chances that the two of them would somehow fall behind and get separated.

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

"Any sign?"  
"No, sir," Travis answered, "Still no sign of the convoy."  
"Hoshi?"  
"I'm not receiving any communication, Captain." Hoshi could understand that Trip was on a tight timeframe, even if she wasn't sure why. But the convoy they were waiting for had traversed trillions of miles of space and they'd be lucky if it showed up within a few minutes of their arrival. What was she saying? Minutes? No, hours. Perhaps even days. But somehow she sensed that piece of information would not be welcome. So she'd kept mum, simply answering Trip every time he asked her if there'd be any sign of the convoy. Over ten times already.

Trip got up from his chair and started pacing around. He had been growing ever more anxious since the ship detoured from its route to Siva. That was out of character.

Hoshi swiveled slightly in her seat, enough to catch Malcolm's eye. He nodded, he was already watching Trip like a hawk. Finally he spoke up, "We've only been around a few hours. If Starfleet said they'd be there today, but that's an ETA at best. It could take a few days." His tone was openly placating.

Trip turned to him, tongue rolling in his cheek. Then he seemed to realize his behavior was off. "Yes, yes," he agreed. He went back to sit in the Captain's chair, "so I guess we wait."

Malcolm eyed him narrowly, raising an eyebrow at Hoshi who had once again turned around to catch his eye. Something was off, his hound-dog instincts told him so.

But he didn't know what.

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

The long line of rebels was snaking over a mile or so of terrain. They'd been walking for two and three hours under the cover of the trees and the marchers were already separating between a group ahead and laggards at the back. And way at the back was Archer. He thought his lungs were going to explode. He was now walking behind T'Pol, a strategic move that allowed him to keep an eye on her, or at least on the pack she was carrying, which was all he could see.

He saw her sway, her knee seeming to give way, and he readied himself, waiting. The insects buzzing incessantly around his head were thankfully not interested in red blood. He had to keep blinking to keep the sweat off his eyes, he no longer had the strength to wipe his hands across them.

T'Pol lurched again and he knew what was coming. Just at the point when she finally stumbled and gave a knee, he fell heavily on his knees right behind her. Behind him Snagtooth swore, then shouted something. The entire column stopped as if by a ripple effect.

Snagtooth was already on him, "Get up!"  
Archer was looking at T'Pol, flushed a deep green. She was crouching on her heels, breathing hard. There was a sheen of sweat on her face. He shook his head, "Sorry, need to rest. Can't do it," he said between big gulps of air.

Two or three rebels came to surround him. One of them kicked him but hit the bag instead, and Archer went sprawling on the ground. "Get up and keep walking!" someone said. A few more rebels came around. Archer drew in a ball, he knew what came next. They could kick and punch as much as they wanted. While they were busy with him, they were forgetting T'Pol.

They exhausted themselves kicking him before Big Boots came calling. "Stop it!" the leader hollered. '_Kind of too late_," Archer thought and sat up gingerly. He spit blood on the dirt, feeling around his teeth for the cut in his mouth. He could see T'Pol's face from where he was and she raised an eyebrow at him. She knew what he'd done.

Big Boots was looking at the two captives seating in the dirt, his brow knitted in thought. He motioned Snagtooth and the others to the side, where they could talk without being overhead. Eyebrows was with them. Archer really hoped Big Boots would make the packs lighter.

But that hope was soon smashed. Big Boots came back to them. "So our delicate flowers can't handle the weight?" he said derisively. Archer just stared back at him without saying a word.  
Big Boots turned to Snagtooth, "We'll split in two groups. I'm going ahead with the bulk, you and Dalbirach stay with them. I'll leave a detail of a dozen men with you. Make sure to keep an eye on them at all times."  
"Will do, Olihander!" Snagtooth answered.  
"Yes, Olihander," Eyebrows also replied.  
Archer looked up at that. So Big Boots was Olihander? And Eyebrows was Dalbi-something or another? Great, now they were stuck with the one person who wanted them dead.  
"We'll wait for you up North," Big Boots went on. "Oh, and make sure the Vulcan's hands are always tied," he added as an after thought.  
He turned towards the head of the line and made a loud announcement, which was repeated up and down the column, "Lunch break! Everyone!"  
Archer thanked his lucky stars. They'd get a couple of hours respite from carrying those goddam packs and after that they could set their own pace. It would be tough, but feasible.

It wasn't long before they were both chained to a tree, watching the rebels eat. Archer hoped there would be something left, his stomach was growling, his mouth watering at the sight of the food. He tried to distract his mind by counting his new bruises and contusions.  
T'Pol abruptly looked at him, "Thank you."  
Archer nodded. "How are you feeling?" he tried again.  
She fell silent for a few seconds. "I am functional," she finally said.  
Archer wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but at least she'd answered instead of just telling him off. Soon she would be talking to him again.

He leaned back against the tree trunk, reviewing all options. Eyebrows wanted them dead but Snagtooth didn't, and Snagtooth was impulsive. And they would be cut off from the main party. There was something useful there. Who knew what could happen. Who knew.


	5. Chapter 5 The Hydra-Zephalis Straights

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

"Welcome aboard, Captain Morrissot," Trip saluted the captain of the Transport Vernes as soon as the airlock opened.

"Glad to see you Captain Tucker!" she replied eagerly.

Captain Morrissot had the diminutive stature of a sprite, making Trip feel like a giant among men. He fell in step next to her as they proceeded to the Enterprise private dining room, followed by Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, and Captain's Morrissot's Fist Officer, Lieutenant Nagez. The muscle in Trip's jaw was clenching and unclenching rhythmically as they made their way down the corridor. It would have been unseemly to point out that the Vernes was two days late, so he didn't. Another two days, and whatever Phlox said, that was two days on top of three days, on top of two days to come... days would turn into weeks and weeks into months if he wasn't careful, and he was already dancing on the thin edge of a knife.

Other than her size, Captain Morrisot was no different in person than on the screen. Trip realized the camera on the Vernes was set up to erase any the difference. It made sense, given the many more or less savory characters a transport might encounter. Dinner had been eaten and they were now talking shop, and what had brought the Vernes here and Enterprise along with it.

"I apologize for the delay," Morrissot said. "We ran into gravitational flux along the edge of the Laplace Nebula. Something to do with the rotation of the main planet, my science officer could tell you if I had one," she added with a smile.

The reference to the science officer was cutting a little close to the mark. Trip forced a smile, "Nothing to it, we all know how space can be." He lied convincingly. That earned him a pointed stare from Reed.

Hoshi kicked Malcolm under the table. Now was not the time to mention the strange behavior of the Captain, how he'd been like a caged bear for the past two days, impatient with everyone, keeping an eye fixated on the chrono as if he could force the Vernes to appear by sheer force of will.

Trip looked down at his knife. He was well aware he'd been somewhat of a tyrant lately. But they should have been at Siva-Llebpmac days ago already. That took precedence over everything.

Morrisot was going on, "Captain Archer's reputation is well established. That's why we requested Enterprise provide cover."

Trip turned to her, "Our own Science Officer is not aboard, we're picking her and Captain Archer up as soon as we see you safely through the Straits." He flashed his most ingratiating smile, "We could pick them up first, if you want." In the shocked silence that ensued he quickly went on, "But Enterprise is ready to ensure your safety, and we will!"

Malcolm exchanged a look with Hoshi. He wasn't sure Trip had been joking when he offered to pick up their missing officers. Ever since they left, he'd been behaving as if it was tearing him up inside not to go to Siva.

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

They had trudged through flatlands with tall grasses and spare patches of trees, before the patches of trees grew more numerous and denser. Soon after they'd encountered the first hillocks, small elevations that they negotiated slowly, weighed down by the packs on their backs, unable to turn around or do much other than put one foot ahead of the other and start again. Now they were in a semi-mountainous terrain, at much higher elevation than they'd started from. The going was even slower, more treacherous, the trail a thin ribbon of grass and dirt between the trees and the abyss. A fall off the edge would have meant certain death. At least Snagtooth and Eyebrows didn't insist on any kind of pace, happy to walk leisurely in front and in back, their slim rucksacks not looking like much of a hinderance at all. The other men with them, they were all men, seemed also content with the relaxed pace.

Archer rolled his shoulders, trying to switch the contact point of the pack's bindings. They had been biting into the soft flesh of his shoulders since day one and said shoulders were now a painful mass of bruises and cuts. There was no position that was less painful but he tried anyway. His entire body hurt, every muscle stiffened by strain and overuse. Their days had become a repetitive hell of being tied to a tree, being released to pick up the packs, walking until fatigue felled them, and then being tied up again. At least the rebels fed them plentiful amounts, not enough given the work they had to do, but well enough.

He looked ahead at the winding path disappearing into the woods, measuring how far they had come, how much farther they still had to go. He had no idea where the North camp was but it made sense it would be in the mountains. The suns were dipping into the second half of the sky, they would be pitching camp soon. He'd help along by falling into a heap as soon as he spotted a good enough space, large enough that everyone had a place to stretch. T'Pol was right ahead of him. He had taken to walking behind her, where he could better keep an eye out for her.

It all happened in a heartbeat. He saw her take a step slightly to the right of the trodden path, saw her ankle shift over a tuft of grass. She had to take another step further to the right, the weight of the pack pulling her even farther right, where the mountain ended in a sheer cliff. Given a normal pack, all she'd have to do was pull faster forward and she'd be back on track. But her tethered hands kept her from re-centering the monstrous pack and its weight kept pulling her towards the abyss.

Before Archer had even time to think, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back towards the forest side, body-slamming her against a tree. It knocked the break off both of them. The impact had thrown him against her and he stood there catching his breath.

And then the world shifted. All he wanted to do was press his lips on hers, grind his hips all the way to the center of her being, intoxicate himself with her scent. He had a vivid vision of himself doing just that, he could almost feel the pressure of her lips as if it was real, the heat of her hands against his back, the feeling of her nails lightly scratching him as she was overcome by passion. One swift move and he would be entering her.

"Captain?"

The vision evaporated in a flash and Archer found himself pressed hard against her. He jerked back as if bitten by a snake, hoping she hadn't felt his erection. He was unsure what had come over him. He wiped his forehead and face with trembling hands, blinking, trying to come to terms with the incredibly vivid vision and the effects it was still having on his anatomy. "It's nothing," he heard himself say as if from a great distance. "It's nothing," he repeated. But his brain was screeching it was not nothing.

T'Pol's face was flushed green, a thin edge of sweat under her hair. But then she'd been looking like that a lot lately. She didn't reply, and somehow that helped ground him. It didn't mean anything.

Snagtooth's arrival lowered the tension.

"We're stopping here!" He announced loudly. "Get the packs off them!" he directed the closest men.

Eyebrows was his way to them from the head of the line. "Why are we stopping?" he asked.

"You didn't see it," Snagtooth replied, "Almost lost that one over the edge." He threw a thumb back towards T'Pol, who was still braced against the tree. Then seeing that Eyebrows was missing the import, he added in a hushed whisper, "She's got the weapons pack."

At least that what Archer thought he'd said. He shot a glance at T'Pol, she'd definitely heard every word.

She just looked back at him impassively. Darn Vulcans.

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

Morrissot and Nagez were on the near side of the command center table, Trip, Travis, Sato, Reed and Jean Lessett were grouped on the other side. Trip had left Riekke in charge, what better training than manning a ship idling in space.

They were all looking at a projection of the Hydra and Zepahlis systems, with the Straits showing as an inch-long dark line between masses of densely packed and highly unstable stars. Lessett leaned over and used her fingers to zoom in on the Straits, blowing them up until they occupied the entire screen, revealing their irregular contours and shape. They looked like a dog leg, a large funnel-like passage, the Upper Straits, leading to a sharp elbow into a narrow spindly strait, the Lower Straits. The Straits were renowned for being difficult and treacherous. Only the most seasoned pilots could even pretend to navigate them safely and yet a constant flow of ships went through. A ship using the Straits could go from the Hydra Nebula to the Zepahlis Sector in a few days. Otherwise, the route around the unstable patch of space would take several months.

"Here," Jean traced the Upper Straits with her finger, the clearance is about two miles." She looked pointedly at Travis. "I'm told that for a pilot that's like hitting the broad side of a barn." Travis nodded his agreement.

Nagez leaned over, cutting Lessett off. Trip made a mental note of the man's behavior. Nagez was speaking as if he had the weight of experience. Perhaps he did. Trip thought he'd cut him some slack. "In the Upper Straits," Nagez was saying, "the black holes and forming novas on each side -"

"We call them astronomical events," Lessett corrected.

"Fine. The astronomical events then, are far enough away that the ships hardly feel the pull. But then the Straits bend because of that forming star here," he pointed it out, "and that's when the ships get pushed and pulled in all directions. It's a rocky ride."

Lessett spoke in turn, pointing with her finger "At this junction here, we have several astronomical events, all square to each other. The strain on the ships reaches a maximum just as the channel for a safe passage narrows considerably. We'll have five hundred yards clearance on each side, give or take a few."

Travis was examining the chart closely. Nagez nodded, "Five hundred yards is tight for a ship like Enterprise, but that's still more than you get in space dock." Everyone chuckled.

Lessett went on, "The ships will have to maintain a minimum speed of subspace point three through the Lower Straits. Because of the pull, we'll need an engine speed of point 35 to get to an effective speed of point 3. Anything below and we could be sucked off course during a flare-up." She paused. "There are numerous flare-ups," she added, almost as an afterthought.

There was a silence as everyone considered what would happen if the ship was pulled off course. It happened at times that a ship would stray a few yards in the Lower Straits, never to be seen again.

"No worry about the speed," Trip finally said in the silence.

Morrissot turned to him, "You'll be following us?"

"We'll be right behind you," Trip answered. "We're going to keep a distance of seventy miles between us at all times. At least Travis will," he added with a smile at the pilot.

"But when we come out of the channel..." Morrissot's voice trailed off. The whole point of having Enterprise escort the Vernes was to fend off the pirates that operated right at the exit of the Straits. Seventy miles gave them plenty of time to plunder the cargo. The very precious top-sensitive major-Starfleet-investment cargo.

"When you exit the Straits, the pull from the various astronomical events disappear. Your speed will be shoot to subspace point 35." Lessett explained.

"At that point you cut down to subspace 3, so as not to hit anything," Trip picked up.

"And the pirates jump you," Reed added.

"That's right," Trip nodded, "That's what happens with everyone. But Enterprise won't cut back. So we'll basically come out on top of you."

"And the pirates," Reed added again.

"They won't be expecting us," Trip ended. He looked around at the room, "I want everyone on my team to have these charts tattooed on the inside of their eyelids. We need to navigate this like we've been there a hundred times before. Travis, run all the simulations you want, get anyone you need to help you prepare."

"Aye, sir!" the helmsman confidently replied.

Trip turned to Malcolm, "Lieutenant Reed, we'll be on battle stations from the moment we enter the Straits. I want everyone on alert. Ensign Sato, you'll need to spend the entire time glued to the communications station. I want to intercept any pirates' conversation before they even have it."

"Aye, sir!" "Yes, Captain."

Trip turned to Lessett, "How long will it take to go through?"

"Based on an effective speed of warp three, we should be through the Upper Straits in a day, another day for the Lower Straits. Two days, perhaps three."

Trip nodded. He turned to the group, "You have your orders."

xxx


	6. Chapter 6 A Good Day

_Notes from the author: I changed the story rating. Italics in the text are a dream sequence. Thanks for your reviews, as always._

* * *

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

There are days when things happen and you couldn't have planned for a better outcome. This was one of those days. It started badly enough, though, the usual waking up with the suns, half-shivering from the cool nights, stiff from the day before, some alien goop for breakfast and then back with those awful packs. Archer hated these packs. Even though it was getting easier every day for him, his pack held some of the food they were consuming on the way, a pound here, a couple of pounds there, the weight was steadily creeping down. Not the case for T'Pol, though. She had the weapons pack, as she confirmed late at night when the rebels were asleep.

The path through the mountains was pretty much the same as the day before, a fairly dense vegetation pushing the trail to the edge of the mountain. 'Weapons pack, weapons pack, weapons pack,' Archer kept thinking in cadence with his steps. Not sure what good it did, but it was something else that could be useful. They climbed for a while and then the path eased down a while.

Archer kept a steady distance T'Pol, short enough that the could jump up and pull her to safety again if needed. There was a bend in the trail and he almost ran smack into her pack. The line had stopped moving, the rebels ahead assembling on a flat area trodden bare of any vegetation. Spanning ahead to the other side was a rope bridge. Archer took a step forward and checked that he could see water, the green ribbon of a river several feet below. It was tranquil, flowing briskly but calmly. He couldn't see where it came beyond a bend up ahead.

Archer looked around, trying to understand how the trail went, quickly assessing that their path upriver was blocked by a huge monolith of a rock, extending several hundred feet on all sides, its flank sheer to the river below. It was enormous, sitting there like a silent sentinel. Going around it on either side would have taken days. The best option was to cross and keep going. Hence the bridge. Two ropes all the way spaced with rudimentary planks and a third rope higher up, to grab for safety.

Snagtooth had just arrived behind him, sweeping the line. He rubbed his hands together, "Okay, everyone, let's get ready to cross!"

The rebels squared their shoulders, checking the adjustment of their rucksacks.

That's when the lucky break happened. That's the only way Archer could explain it. "Untie the Vulcan," Snagtooth ordered the closest men.

"You can't do that!" Eyebrows called from where he was.

"We need them both. If there's only one, perhaps the Erials won't give them their orders."

"Ayt Olbiad and Olihander said never to untie her."

"She can't cross with her hands tied. We can't take the chance." They'd already come close the day before. Snagtooth's rationale carried the day. Eyebrows grunted his agreement.

Archer kept his face neutral, nodding in agreement, "You don't want the packs at the bottom," he added. He wasn't sure how they could take advantage of this turn but you bet he was going to try.

Snagtooth scoffed, "The packs will inflate and float around until we can track their chips."

Archer didn't reply, mentally noting the information. He waited until Snagtooth was distracted by another topic before he sidled over to T'Pol, trying not to draw attention. She was stretching her elbows and shoulders for mobility. He hesitated, afraid to trigger another vision like the one from the day before.

She turned to him and he saw that her hands were trembling. He had a sudden flashback - the Xindi, the Expanse, her hands shaking like leaves, he'd ask her if everything was okay. He knew it wasn't, had figured she was emotionally stressed. She was a scientist after all, not a warrior. In the heat of what happened next he'd forgotten all about it. It all came back to him in a rush. Was she having another emotional breakdown?

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

T'Pol looked at the ground, "We need to go to Siva."

Archer looked at her uncomprehendingly. Didn't she know that Siva was days' walk and a shuttle away? He looked up at the sky. Enterprise should be looking for them already. They'd spent enough days in these mountains that Trip should have figured out they were not on Siva.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but we have to wait for Enterprise to find us."

T'Pol shook her head as if he didn't understand. "We must get to Siva," she repeated. "I need Trip." She swallowed, still looking at the ground. She seemed stressed, off-color.

Archer understood she needed Trip for moral comfort. So it was an emotional break-down. That was one more complication but fortunately he had experience with teams whose participants had stress-induced psychotic episodes. Starting with Trip.

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

The trip to the Upper Straits had been uneventful, the Vernes choppily but easily keeping a line straight through the center, Enterprise following within seventy miles. Travis was even able to get a relief to replace him while he took a short nap, enough to recharge and keep going. Hesse was sending regular updates to the bridge, the ships were maintaining a steady state of subspace zero point three, sometimes as high as zero point three two. Both ships were approaching the point where the Straits elbowed in another direction around the nascent star.

Trip suppressed a yawn as he hit the intercom. How could he be tired when they were crossing the dangerous Straits, with pirates to fight at the end, to boot? Possibly because he'd been up almost a full day.

"Captain Morrissot," he greeted the face on the screen.

"Captain Tucker," she replied agreeably. Her image shook on the screen as the Vernes was buffeted by cosmic pulls. Enterprise was a much bigger ship, the maelstrom outside was felt only as an occasional bump.

"Specialist Lessett informs me that the astronomical events are unusually active. The Lower Straits are going to be rough," he told her.

"That should prove interesting..." her smile underlined the sarcastic tone in her voice.

"We need to coordinate precisely," Trip went on. "From the look of things it will take more than another day to get through the Lower Straits. And then we'll have to deal with pirates. That's a long stretch to be on call."

"I get it," Morrissot was nodding. "What do you suggest? I don't have enough people for a mid-course rotation in the Lower Straits."

"Yes, I figured it would be a stretch for the Vernes to idle there," Trip replied, "or perhaps we could send personnel over. We could also take a break now and get everyone fully rested, but then we'd be going into battle at the end of a twenty-four hour shift."

"We can't idle in the Lower Straits," Nagez interrupted, "Apologies, Captain," he told Morrissot.

Nagez had been through the Straits before, there was no reason to doubt his word. The two captains looked at each other.

"Can you idle now? Do you have enough crew?" Trip asked.

Morrissot looked around the Vernes' bridge, "I could idle but it will require critical personnel to stay on shift, so it doesn't really help." She had a sudden thought, "Is there any way we could tether the Vernes to Enterprise?"

Trip started shaking his head, "We would need a rigid attachment - hold on a second," he palm the intercom, "Trip to Engineering, Hesse, do we still have the long-arm poles from the shuttle rebuild?"

"Yes, Tr-Captain, you told me to put them in Bay Two, said they could come handy at some point," Hesse replied. "That was five years ago," she added, a dig that was lost on no one on the bridge.

"Well, turns out we need them. Get them out of Inventory." Trip turned to the screen where Morrissot was waiting expectantly. He smiled, "I think we can accommodate. We'll rendez-vous in thirty-five minutes."

* * *

By the time he went to his quarters Trip was really pleased with the way the day had gone. Enterprise had enough personnel that they could keep both ships idle in one spot for the next shift. and then they'd go through the Lower Straits, another full day with the pirates' attack as the cherry on top. Poor pirates finding themselves facing Enterprise. There was a current of excitement going through the ship. Reed was behaving like a man who'd just won the jackpot and can't wait to get his hands on the money. If the pirates didn't show up as planned the man would fall into a depression.

Trip sat on the edge of the bed. Tonight, sleeping alone would be okay. He needed to be fully rested. He closed his eyes with the satisfied sigh of a day well spent.

A couple of hours later there was a pressure in his loins. Still asleep he reached in response to the call of his body.

_But it was her hand that was already there, gently grabbing his shaft, playing with the head. He turned over with a smile. 'How did you get there?' he asked. He was so happy she was there. She looked as beautiful as always. _

_'I need you,' she said, and he nodded his understanding. He was hers, and he would always be available whenever she needed. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her but the thought escaped his mind as her hand brushed further down to his balls. A stroke of pleasure lit up the inside of his eyelids. 'Hmm, don't stop,' he implored. Not that she would. He knew that._

_He had his pajamas on but she wasn't wearing anything and he reached for her breasts, gently squeezing the nipples, enjoying seeing push her shoulders back and her chest forward. He took a nipple in his mouth and started playing with it while his other hand kept toying with the other one. He knew that drove her to arousal. When it did she tried pushing him off her, as always. He laughed softly and pinned her under his weight, paying close attention to her breasts, playing with one nipple then the other. __The engineer in him enjoyed the way her body reacted under his fingers, how she curled up when he slid a hand between her legs while still busying himself with her breasts. She was flushed green, moaning in arousal as he stroked her clitoris, alternating long gentle rubs with small taps. _

_He knew she could free herself at any time and all of a sudden he was on his back on the bed, she was on top, pinning him with her chest. She reached down and stroke him hard. He wanted to tell her to slow down, he wouldn't last long that way. But before he could take a breath she was on top of him, straddling him and he was pushing deep into her. This time he was the one moaning in arousal. He half-lifted himself to bounce her deeper, reaching up to grab her and bring her nipples back to his mouth._

_The waves of pleasure filled the room, carrying them through space. Space was expanding all around, the universe was spinning madly. It collapsed on itself until it was a pinprick of light in a corner of the room. The light shrunk even further, retreating completely, before it exploded in a supernova that lit all the corner of his soul. T'Pol collapsed into a heap on his chest, a fine layer of perspiration on her face. Trip could feel the pulsations of his penis, his blood was rushing in his ears, he was drenched in sweat._

The incessant beep of the chrono woke him up. Trip opened one eye and glared at the thing, wondering why it was going off, realizing it was the beginning of a new day. That had been one heck of a wet dream. It really felt like T'Pol was there with him. Glancing downward he saw that he was ready for a second round. He quickly shifted his thoughts away from T'Pol and her body. He had a ship to run. And Phlox'd said there was time.


	7. Chapter 7 The Jump

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

They'd spent the entire day on the other side of the river which they could see when the trail came close to the edge and now they were stopped again. Again, the rebels had assembled on a patch of bare earth with the span of a rope bridge ahead of them.

Archer looked at it with a dose of fatigue-induced puzzlement. Why were they crossing again? Then he realized they'd walked the entire span of the rock formation on the other side and now they were going back to their original trail. An astute shortcut. The river was still several feet below, flowing briskly downstream against the cliffs of the rocky hill. It looked very familiar. Archer realized he'd seen this before while mountaineering. This was a gorge, smaller than a canyon. He wondered what they called it in the planet's language.

The column started crossing. T'Pol was ahead of him. The rebels had neglected to tie her hands back after they crossed the first bridge. Perhaps they forgot, perhaps they knew there was another bridge and why do what they'd had to undo again. She was holding the third rope with a white-knuckled grip, trying to keep her oversize pack balanced. It was clear she was apprehensive. Water always made Vulcans anxious.

Archer didn't think. Acting purely on instinct, he lunged ahead to where T'Pol was, grabbed her, and jumped straight into the waters below. They pivoted in the air as the heavy packs rotated under them to break their fall. Archer kept a death grip on T'Pol as they plunged several feet into water so cold it clenched his chest, before their packs self-inflated and popped them back to the surface. He was still holding her tight as the current took them downstream, she not even trying to swim, overwhelmed by the cold wetness all around. At least she wasn't fighting him. He could rely on Vulcan logic to keep her on this side of panic.

The angry yells and exclamations overhead were fading in the distance. The current was taking them rapidly away. They were already many yards downstream and he knew they would start firing next. Archer maneuvered the packs behind them to form a shield. A bend in the river hid them from sight. Now he could survey the land, figure out what to do next. He could see that the monolith hill was not a straight cliff down to the river. The foot of the rock was littered with boulders smoothed over by the ages. The lower third of the rock itself was pockmarked and gouged with crevasses and holes of various sizes.

The gorge was narrowing and the current intensified, churning the water. Archer flipped the packs in front of them as a protective barrier. T'Pol was making feeble attempts at swimming next to him, he almost told her to stop it already. A cat would have done better. If ever there was a doubt Vulcans didn't originate in water... They tumbled down a fast stretch of whitewater rapids, the packs ricocheting from boulder to boulder, shaking them without throwing them off.

The gorge widened and the river slowed back to a more leisurely pace, one that allowed Archer to check his surroundings. He spotted a natural pool between two mounds of boulders that were obviously the result of past avalanches. He grabbed his pack with one hand, the other still securely fastened around T'Pol's collar, and kicked hard a few times, managing to wedge his inflated pack at the opening to the pool. Quickly, before the buoyant bag could be jostled away, he grabbed the nearest boulder with one hand. The water was moving too fast to do much other than hold on. Now he was in a bind, holding on to the boulder with one hand and to T'Pol with the other. He scissored her with his legs, freeing his hand, and heaved the pack further towards the still water.

He grabbed her again, trying to bring her up to the boulder but her pack was dragging her downstream, water rushing over her head as it pulled her downward. He swung his legs and scissored her again. The pull on the pack was enormous. Still holding the boulder with one hand, he undid the bindings on her pack. For a few seconds he had it in his hand. Snagtooth had said the bags were chipped. The rebels would know if any weapons were missing. He reluctantly opened his hand and let go, watching the pack bob swiftly downstream until it disappeared from sight.

He was now able to pull T'Pol securely to hold the boulder before coaxing her to the safety of the still water, where he could finally push her out of the water onto a layer of smaller boulders and stones. She laid there, heaving and coughing, while he got up next to her and hoisted his pack out. A look around told him they were right at the bottom of a cliff. He waited until she was finally able to breathe normally again.

"I'm going to check the surroundings. You stay with the pack."

T'Pol nodded feebly, perched on one elbow, her breath whistling, shaken by great spams of sneezing. Vulcans simply didn't do water well.

By the time he came back, she was sitting up, her unisuit smoking as the water vapor quickly evaporated. Vulcan fabric was amazing.

"I've found a shelter!" he announced.

A quizzical eyebrow greeted him, "A shelter?" Her eyes were rimmed with green but her color was no longer off. It struck him that she'd been looking greener than usual for a while. He noticed her hands were not trembling anymore.

"Yes, Probably from past floods, there are nooks and crannies up thirty feet from the water line. A few big enough for both of us."

"You propose that we take refuge in a nook and cranny?"

"Unless you have a better idea, Commander," Archer snapped back. He wasn't sure why she objected. Then he realized, "Don't worry, it's a big one. We could fit the entire science team in it. Almost big enough for separate rooms."

A sudden memory of the vision of his kissing her filled him with embarrassment. He busied himself with his pack, keeping a running commentary, "We can't go downstream, that's where the packs will end up and the rebels can track them. Which reminds me, we need to make sure they find both packs." He was unzipping his pack. "They'll think that mine ruptured in the fall and that all the food was lost." He quickly emptied out the food items.

T'Pol was eyeing the dry goods doubtfully. "Did you find wood for a fire?" she asked.

"M'fraid there won't be a fire," Archer mumbled back. He'd mixed a handful of food with some water and was busy smearing the goop all over the inside of the pack. "The trees are on the other side of the river," he added. "Ever heard of a raw diet?" he looked up at her.

She didn't respond directly. "How long to you expect we can wait here eating raw food?"

'_Tsk, tsk, tsk. Ms. Rationality'_, he thought. "We'll go downstream once the rebels have finished looking for us. By then Enterprise will be there." He was ad-libbing, he had no idea. Talking without knowing was what got them here in the first place and with a little luck that's what would get them out. Not that he had much else to offer.

xxx

_**Enterprise**_

"Doctor, you need to do something!"

Phlox turned around from where he was dosing compounds to stare at the speaker. It was Captain Tucker, fairly red-faced even for a Human.

Trip lifted the padd that was strategically positioned in front of him and Phlox understood what he was talking about. "Hmm, I see," he commented. "Is that what Humans refer to as pitching the trouser tent?"

"Very funny, Phlox." Now Trip was annoyed, "It just keeps happening! You have to do something!"

"Hmm," Phlox bounced on the balls of his feet twice, "Have you tried mechanical means? What is the expression, 'choke-"

"- It doesn't work," Trip hastened to cut Phlox off before he could finish. "It just keeps happening! I can't go to the bridge sporting an erection! Not with pirates about to attack!"

"Actually, the Nu'ugorians make a point of going to battles sporting erection, quite impressive erections, if I may say -

"Doctor!" Trip growled.

"Hmm, yes, yes." The doctor was looking through the containers on the Sickbay counters, "Let me see what I have to counter the effects..."

"Could we keep it to drugs with unpronounceable names?" Trip asked, not keen to have one of the doctors' creatures hanging on to his appendage.

"Of course, of course..." The doctor looked up, "... hmmm... we have to think that the 'stimulus' is not going away any time soon... a neural suppressant... Here!" he triumphantly showed Trip what looked like a flattened disk. "All we have to do is stick this to your spine, right about here." Phlox was showing on himself where the device would go.

"Just go ahead, doc," Trip dejectedly waved at him. He almost asked about possible side effects, decided he'd rather not know.

"There," Phlox said as the engineer readjusted his shirt, "that should protect you from T'Pol's hormonal fluctuations."

"You said we had another couple of months!"

Trip's tone was accusing but Phlox was not flustered. "We are talking about a biological process involving the physiological and endocrine systems. It's always going to be an imperfect science. You have to expect the condition will ebb and flow. The time can vary if anything affects the biological processes. Anything that stresses the system will accelerate the timeline. Anything that lowers the metabolic rate will slow it."

"As in...?" Trip was hard-pressed to think what could happen in the confines of a shuttle.

"Stress, injury, illness." Phlox stopped when he saw Trip's face. "I'm sorry to say, Commander," his voice was gentler, "but while it is always possible that this is a fluke, it is more likely that something happened that has accelerated the timeline."

Trip swallowed hard. "How long?"

Phlox sighed, "I don't know. The only symptom I have is what's happening to you. But based on that, I'd say the timeline has been shortened by a month."

Trip looked at the wall chrono, thinking. They'd already spent days getting to the Straits, meeting with the Vernes, navigating between the black holes. "So two weeks to a month?" he asked.

Phlox nodded. "I would guess as much."

"Great." Trip's tone was stern.

"But remember, Captain Archer's with her. Her life is not at risk!" Phlox punctuated that with one of his trademark smiles.

The withering look he got in return left him speechless. He watched the doors close on the Commander. Humans were so complicated. A Denobulan man would have rejoiced at the thought.

xxx


	8. Chapter 8 A Question Of Time

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

Archer would have liked to stare into the fire. But there was no fire. So he was looking at the grey sand covering the ground of the shelter, wishing there was a fire. It would have made it easier for him to forget the pain in his shoulders. The cold of the water must have temporarily anesthesized them but now that he was dry and fed, however meagerly, his shoulders were screaming at him, especially the part where the bindings had met the flesh. Funny that it hadn't happened before. Perhaps being tied to a tree under the rebels' guns had made him forget the pain.

He looked around for something to distract his mind, anything. T'Pol was meditating in the opposite corner, as she'd been doing pretty much since they'd got to the shelter. She looked tense, her hands resting in her lap as if they weighed a ton. He had a feeling her shoulders were hurting just as much.

He didn't want to disturb her meditation but these were exceptional circumstances. "Are your shoulders hurting as well?" he called out, "I almost can't move my arms. I don't know why it didn't bother me before."

She blinked out of her meditative state, turned to him. "The discomfort is to be expected. The release of stress would lead to the notice of secondary effects."

"Huh?" Archer said.

"My shoulders are hurting as well," T'Pol sounded irritated. "As I said," she added with a tone.

Yep, that was an angry tone. "Okay, okay," Archer raised his hands palms outward, "just asking." He didn't mean to make her mad. "One little question, no reason to fly off the handle." He looked around, "Well, perhaps it'll be better tomorrow. I'm going to sleep."

"Vulcans do not require as much sleep as Humans... I need to meditate," was the answer. At least she didn't sound irritated.

"Suit yourself." Archer replied. He awkwardly laid down on the floor, wincing as he put weight on his elbows. Laying on the stone floor brought back memories of P'Jem and how he and T'Pol'd shared a blanket. There was no blanket here. They'd got enough food for two weeks, if they managed rations tightly, but no blanket.

Which was better, considering. He was still embarrassed by his vision of kissing T'Pol. She was with Trip, he'd never do anything like that. And he was well past the time when he was attracted to her.

Or so he'd thought.

He cleared his throat. He felt the need to explain, let her know he wasn't like that, that the vision was a fluke. "Listen," he started. He felt himself blush. "The other day, when I stopped you from falling, I don't know what happened," oh, he did know what happened, he was just hoping she hadn't noticed or hadn't realized or something like that, "but I want to make it clear it won't happen again. It can't."

T'Pol shot him a strange look. The night would fall soon but there was enough residual light that he could see her clearly. She looked better than on the trail, she didn't have that weird sheen to her face. Probably it had been the physical strain of carrying that pack.

She finally spoke, "Agreed. I will meditate."

Archer sighed. It sounded like she was willing to overlook the incident. He rolled on his side, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and was soon fast asleep.

xxx

**_Enterprise_**

"Ok, Travis, we're almost there..."

Trip didn't need to say it. In fact, he didn't need to say anything at all. But the last twenty-four hours had been a rough ride, everyone shaken back and forth as the ionic currents buffeted the ship. He didn't even want to think what it must be like on the Vernes. Tough enough keeping his cookies down. At least Jack was back in the box.

Travis nodded, unable to spare a reply. They were almost out of the Straits. Another few hundred kilometers and they would escape the pull of the last neighboring black hole. They'd catch up to the Vernes, get close enough that the pirates about to attack iwould get the surprise of their life. And run.

Hopefully.

Travis had been piloting the ship for almost forty-eight hours straight and counting. There had been no opportunity to rest and he wasn't looking forward to a confrontation with pirates. The last thing he wanted was to have to run evasive maneuvers on no sleep and in a handkerchief of space.

He noted the last few seconds and miles, felt the sudden absence of the undertow. It was like a rubber band snapping, propelling Enterprise straight ahead. His hands remained glued to the console. Now to finesse their exit and avoid ramming the Vernes... Which he did, stopping right above the transport coordinates.

Travis blinked, passed his hands over bleary eyes. Binked again. Perhaps he wasn't seeing right.

Behind him there was a single exclamation. "What the hell?!" Trip was out of his chair, looking at the screen.

Where there wasn't a pirate ship as expected. Not a. Instead, there was a whole flotilla of them, their cannons heating infra-red in advance of the strike.

Trip cursed again. They knew Enterprise was coming. It was a trap. "Battle stations! Travis! Evasive action! Reed! Wide-dispersion barrage!" he barked.

Travis banked hard down and to the left, his path lit by conflagrations from the pirates. It gave Reed a wide angle to aim a stream of photon bombs at the pirates. Their ships were built for speed and attack, not for defense. They exploded one after the other as the bombs made contact, some turning into blackened hulls, others spiraling out as their engines were hit. One ship smacked into its neighbor, the two of them careening in a shower of sparks before dropping out of sight. 'Good, two less,' was the only comment. Nobody knew who said it. Nobody cared.

The pirates may have been expecting Enterprise but not understood the sheer power of a starship. The holes opened by Reed's fire didn't stop their attack though. The bridge rocked as Enterprise was hit by salvo after salvo. "Shields down 20%," Reed shouted.

"How's the Vernes doing?!" Trip shouted back.

"Enemy focusing its fire on Enterprise!" Malcolm answered between clenched teeth. If he found the bastard that had sold them down the river...

"Small group headed for the Vernes!" Lessett suddenly shouted.

Trip hit the arm of the chair with his fist. Damn it! They were splitting them up! "Aft canons!" he bellowed. "Malcolm, try to pick them off. Travis, try to outdistance the pack!"

Travis accelerated, drawing the closest pirates in pursuit while Malcolm fired the aft canons, counting to himself as he picked the ships, "One... Two..." The ship shook, the pirates were still firing.

"Out of range," Malcolm said. "Shields down twenty-eight percent," he added.

"Travis, double-back! We'll fly into them! Malcolm, get ready for another pass!"

"Aye, Captain!"

Trip gripped the captain's chair as Travis threw the ship into a corkscrew. Somewhere behind him a console erupted in a shower of sparks, a crewman screamed in pain.

"Malcolm!" Trip shouted again. There couldn't be any daylight between orders and execution.

"I've got it!" Malcolm yelled back.

The closest pirates had followed Enterprise into its reverse loop, were surprised to find they were now flying into their own forces. The others scrambled to get out of their way. Malcolm helped them along with another string of photon bombs.

But there were many left and hitting Enterprise was like hitting the broad side of a barn. The pirates didn't miss. The ship shook, smoke filled the bridge. "Shields down 38%!" Malcolm called.

Suddenly, the Vernes appeared in a corner of the screen, dancing around as it tried to escape a handful of attackers. It stopped moving, feebly trying to defend itself but obviously losing ground. Trip swiveled, hit the intercom. "Trip to Vernes! How you're holding up?!"

"They fried our electrical system, Captain!" Morrissot replied. "We're dead in space!"

"Hang in there!" Trip told her. He turned in his seat, "Travis, stick around them. Malcolm, you're ready for another pass?"

"Yee Haw!" Malcolm answered.

Trip looked at him weirdly. Of all the times... which reminded him. He turned to the front screen, "Hoshi, what are they saying?"

"Mostly white noise, Captain!" Hoshi had a hand pressed over her headphones, her eyebrows knitted as she tried to hear. "It's all static! They're too busy to talk!"

"Well, let's keep them busy then! Malcolm, you ready?"

"You bet!" Malcolm replied over the din.

"Good," Trip leaned forward, "Travis, let's take it from the top..."

Travis was already swerving high and to the right, several pirates following and hammering at Enterprise. The ship shook again as the fire hit. The lights on the bridge flickered. Trip clenched his jaw. Even if they hit the electrical system, Enterprise had a redundant structure. It was not some hapless freight transport with single-use systems.

Enterprise's fire was slowly but methodically picking the pirates. Their ranks had thinned, it was no longer like shooting fish in a barrel. Some hits were not finding their mark.

Trip watched the screen anxiously. An enemy ship on the left lit up the screen before twirling off listlessly.

"Got it!" Reed shouted at the same time.

Trip turned to Malcolm, "Huh?"

Malcolm was grinning, his fingers on the commands, "Just a little high-precision adjustment, Captain!" He leaned over his console and fired again. One of the ships bothering the Vernes lit up, "One down, two to go," Reed exclaimed, aiming a third time.

"They're talking, Captain!" Hoshi exclaimed. "Someone's complaining, saying this is not what they were in for." She looked up as a handful of ships separated from the pack and left straight for deep space. "Those are saying they're done." The defection inspired others. Another ship slipped off, then two more. Reed took another of the ships around the Vernes down. That was the final straw. The pirates ships fled.

The crew was back to watching the empty immensity of space.

Trip turned to Hoshi with a smile. Now they could get on to Siva. "Hoshi -" he started.

"Captain -," she interrupted before he could say another word. "I'm getting a distress signal."

"The Vernes?" Of course, it was the Vernes. They'd send over a couple of engineers, fix their systems, send them back on their way, they and their precious cargo.

There was also the matter of the traitor, but that was a Starfleet matter. There were plenty who'd be figuring that one out, once Morrissot and him sent their reports. Right now Enterprise needed to get to Siva.

"No, not the Vernes," Hoshi was frowning. "A civilian transport, reporting many casualties. They were attacked by the pirates but they had nothing of value." She bent towards the console, listening closer, "Their life support systems are dimming."

Trip looked at her like a man possessed. Part of him wished she hadn't said that out loud. If he were the only one to know... He shook himself. Of course, she'd said it out loud. In a way, he was glad. That meant he had no other option.

"Hoshi, get their coordinates. Travis, lay in a course." He turned to the bridge, "Good job, everyone, we pushed the pirates back. Malcolm, a word with you. We have reports to send Starfleet."

The bridge crew looked at each other after he left. They'd won the battle, but why was their captain so grim, like a man condemned to the gallows.

xxx

_**Archimedes**_

Archer woke up right before the first light of morning, looking around groggily, trying to figure out where he was and why. The memory jolted him awake and he quickly sat up. T'Pol was in the same corner as when he went to sleep, still meditating. He wasn't sure why. She looked good, perhaps not as good as she had the day before. He cleared his throat to let her know he was awake. "Good morning, Commander," he called out.

She shuddered then turned to look at him. "Captain." It was a sentence and yet it sounded like a question.

"Sorry I can't offer you plomeek soup for breakfast," Archer said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he started worrying that perhaps that would be considered a romantic advance on Vulcan.

Before he could worry any further T'pol fluidly got up from her meditation pose and walked straight to him. Archer swallowed, wondering what she meant to do. But she went right past him to the other side of the cavern, where the sun was shining a circle of light through the door. She traced the outline with a finger, looking at Archer. "Based on the rotation of the planet's suns, this figure will appear once a day. When we see it, we will know one more day has gone by." She looked on the ground for something, found it. Soon she was scratching a line in the rock, methodically proceeding until there were five identical lines evenly spaced on the wall.

She turned back to Archer. "We have been on this planet for five days and five nights. This will allow you to keep count."

"Why do I need a calendar?" Archer asked, puzzled. "Vulcans always know what time it is."

T'Pol looked at him obliquely but didn't answer. Finally she straightened up, wiped her hands on her thighs, and looked at him squarely, "If I am incapacitated, you will need to keep track of time."

"Incapacitated? Why would you be incapacitated? Is something wrong?" Archer suddenly put two and two together, how she'd seemed greener, sweating. "What's the matter?!" he exclaimed. "You're sick?"

T'Pol looked down and to the right and Archer got a tingling feeling that something was up. "It is not a sickness..." she said. Her voice grew so soft he had to strain to hear it. He thought he heard the word time in there. "Time? Time for what?" he was as nonplussed as ever. He grew impatient.

He didn't have time for a hundred questions, not while they were trying to survive in a hostile environment. Archer threw the weight of command in his voice. "Commander, if we are to survive as a team, I need to know what's going on. Everything."

T'Pol looked up at him, her eyes wide, "It is a phenomena unique to Vulcans, not one we speak about with offworlders."

"And I'm not an offworlder, I'm your Captain!" Archer snapped back. At the same time he couldn't escape the sense of deja vu, he had a vague memory of something he knew, something he'd read in Phlox's report, that was unique to Vulcans. The memory slowly took shape. "Is it that virus you caught from those monkeys?" the name of the planet escaped him. Of course, it didn't have a name. Was she sick again?

T'Pol shook her head, "It is not a virus. The virus created an artificial state of _pon farr_, which is why it developed faster than expected. Phlox thought we had at least another six weeks before the Time was upon me but preliminary symptoms seem to indicate a shorter interval."

"Pon Farr?" Archer's head was swimming. He'd read Phlox's report superficially, didn't pay much attention. Some weird Vulcan thing and then T'Pol was cured. That's all he'd cared to know about it. But now she was saying it was coming back? That seemed to be what she was saying. And Phlox knew?

He zeroed in on the part he did grasp. Kind of. "What do you mean 'a shorter interval'?"

"Based on personal if limited experience, I estimate two weeks before the Blood Fever."

"'Blood Fever'?"

She shot him a look as if she was surprised he didn't know. "That is when the imperative to mate is paroxysmal. If I cannot mate, I will die."

"Wow, wow, wow... Hold on a second!" Archer's head was spinning. He wished he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. But pieces were falling into place as she talked, ambiguous sentences from the reports, memories of conversations he'd had with Malcolm, some veiled allusion not explained, typical English reserve. Malcolm'd said she'd attacked him while in the throes of the fever. Archer had always thought he meant physically, that she wanted to escape, get him out of the way. All of a sudden he had a sense perhaps it was a different kind of attack. That would explain the sly glances from Malcolm, the embarrassed smiles when he brought up the topic.

Part of him had already figured out a very logical solution to what she was saying. But there was no way he was giving in to those instincts. The only solution was that Trip had to be back before the two weeks were up. Trip had to already be at Siva, looking for them. It was only a matter of days. Comforted with the thought everything would work out, Archer smiled at T'Pol, "Trip will find us well before the two weeks are up."

She looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head. He'd never noticed her eyes were quite that wide. Then she blinked, in a way that made him feel she was giving up on trying to explain.

True, he hadn't been there when it all went down, but it really couldn't haven't been that bad. Right?

Right?

xxx


End file.
